Recording #002 | June Log

[the_archive]

WHO | Jon and OTA.
WHAT | DITL mostly, with a few starts in the comments. Feel free to run into Jon anywhere mentioned. He's flexing his Knowing, so if you're interested in dropping some knowledge, that'd be lovely.
WHERE | The Castle, Thorne, the Library, the Dungeon
WHEN | Post-Festival through the rest of June

Realizing that his connection to the Eye is whole again rather soured the end of the Festival for Jon. He spent a day behind the curtains in his room, enduring a headache, but now that's settled down to a mute throb, he's walking off the rest of it while he wrestles with himself.

It's not a surprise, this reconnection. Ambrose told him the respite would only be for a few days. And it's not explicitly unwanted. There are a lot of questions to which he needs answers, and he knows he can seek out those answers, but not without some cost. He knows he'll do it, since the information isn't only for himself. He has to work up the courage.

And he hasn't read a statement in over two weeks now, which is... troublesome. Despite taking full advantage of the dining hall daily (okay, nearly daily), he's aware of a constant vague hunger.

So the walking is as much distraction as exploration. He's going to wear out his sandals pacing the corridors of the castle and the aisles of the library, walking out into the town. He mostly confines his town visits to mid-day, when folk are often too busy to waylay an "honoured guest."

Comments

[the_archive]

He shrugs. "Not so much. It isn't telepathy, I can't read anyone's mind."

[not_caroline]

"So what makes you able to tell when someone's lying?" She needs to know so she can fool him later if she has to. "And don't just say 'because The Eye', that's such a fucking cop-out."

[the_archive]

Jon snorts. "It is, isn't it. It's all I have, though. I, Jon Sims, am apparently very easy to fool."

Oops, bitter. He makes a brief face, looking aside. "Please don't take that as invitation."

[not_caroline]

She can feel his resentful Glamour and almost cringes, unconsciously hiding the reaction by resting her shoulder against the tree again.

She'll make no such promise about not fooling him; however. "I don't think that's your fault, right? Like. You're trying to give people the benefit of the doubt, and they keep hurting you for it."

[the_archive]

Jon glances at his burnt hand, flexing the stiffened fingers slightly. "That's a kind way of looking at it."

[not_caroline]

She just shrugs. "Sometimes kind can be the right answer." It sounds awkward coming out of her, she feels a bit stupid saying it, but. It wasn't wrong. "And it means you're still a good person, 'cos you're still doing it. I... wouldn't exactly be here if people didn't stick their necks out for me once in a while."

[the_archive]

Jon looks at her quietly for a moment, opens his mouth to speak, and then takes longer to rethink what to say to that.

"My neck's harder to break than most. I'll keep sticking it out where I have to."

[not_caroline]

That gets a long look in return from Coraline, measuring him up again.

Until she steps closer and punches him in the arm again. Much softer this time, and she's not quite looking at him. She's glad he can only see her bark so he can't see the warmth in her cheeks.

"Don't get that sappy. I like you being alive, or whatever, you don't need to be dramatic about it." She can't quite hide her small smile, though.

[the_archive]

"I can't help it, the drama comes naturally." He's not hiding that smile either. "I don't think I'm in any special danger, though. Don't worry."

[not_caroline]

"Really?" It's a little bit sly, but her eyes are sharp and calculating when she continues, "Because the way you've been talking about it so far, you're doing a good job of making it sound like the Eye's gonna like, rot your brain from the inside out. That seems pretty special to me."

Possibly a mood-killer, but sue her. She's curious.

[the_archive]

"Oh, that was a while ago," he drawls, pushing his hair back from his face, a finger tapping his temple. "Not sure what's ticking away in here now."

[not_caroline]

"Does that mean there's more of them in your head? Like- the Stranger, or whatever else there is?"

[the_archive]

He hesitates, looking at her. "No," he says, tone measured in a way that says he's definitely sharing only a partial truth, and expects her to know it.

[not_caroline]

It definitely gets a raised eyebrow. "Do I want to know what your theories are for that?"

[the_archive]

"No," he says again, with a little more of a smile. Something about his eyes, though... the smile absolutely doesn't reach them.

[not_caroline]

Like it'd be hard for her to miss that.

Once upon a time, a look like that would have her already gone, vanished in less than a puff of dust to hide in the arms of a tree willing to protect her. She's gotten bold since, taking refuge in rage and audacity.

That being said, she still steps up and jumps easily back up onto her branch with nary a scramble or piece of bark dislodged, pulling herself up and draping her chest over it with a deceptive laziness, leaving her legs hanging with one foot folded behind the other ankle. "Maybe I wanna know. You're convinced you've already brought the Eye here with you, not that you're just like- manifesting its powers. So if you're worried about something else being in your head, that means something."

[the_archive]

He shakes his head, lifting a hand in placation as he looks up at her.

"It isn't like that. I don't have theories, I know what I have wound up in me. Only the Eye can... act through me.

"All I meant was, well, that it rotted my brain quite some time ago. A bad joke. Mostly a joke."

[not_caroline]

She just pulls a face at him, swinging her legs up so she can push off Jon's shoulder with one foot in mind punishment.

"The way you made it sound, I have to check. There's other Changelings like that, that are all fucked up and rotten and still loyal to their Keepers, so." She hasn't met any but she knows it's a thing. "I like keeping tabs on how exactly you're a piece of shit up there."

[the_archive]

"Well, I'm not a Changeling." And the idea gives him goosebumps, remembering. "We have... something like that too. Less charming, very rotten."

[not_caroline]

"Yeah, you don't look anywhere weird enough." He's just kind of fucked-up looking in the normal ways.

She pushes herself up on her branch again, sitting side-saddle on it. "Do I get to hear it, or is that one of those 'too close to home' things?"

[the_archive]

He lets himself lean against the trunk of the tree, reflecting for a moment.

Poking a bruise, metaphorically.

"About two years back, something killed my friend and replaced her. And we didn't notice for months."

[not_caroline]

"...oh."

Her voice is... surprisingly quiet, for that revelation, and she pulls one leg up to hug it as she looks away.

[the_archive]

He looks up, aware that it wasn't only his bruise, then.

"It couldn't happen, now," he offers. In case it's a reassurance. He'd Know, now.

[not_caroline]

She just shrugs one shoulder. "It's not that. It's just, like..."

She's silent for a few seconds despite herself. "Me too. Kind of."

[the_archive]

Jon picks up a broken twig to give his hands something to do, meeting her eyes sideways. She can expand on that or not, if she wants. He'll listen. But not ask.